


Blind Trust

by orphan_account



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Brooklyn, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Original Female Character - Freeform, Romance, This was written in 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red is just off the boat to New York City with second-hand directions to find Spot Conlon. She learns to find her way in a city she can't see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this in 2010, and it isn't my best work. It's over on ff.net under the same name. I apologize in advance for the grammar and spelling of the dialogue. It was meant to be an experiment in actually writing an accent into a work.

There you are, miss." Tom let go of my arm once we were off the boat, "Are you sure you don't want any help? New York's a big place."

"No, thank you. I'm sure I can find my brother just fine on my own."

"Well," a board creaked. He was backing up on to the boat, "If you're sure." I nodded and he was gone. I pinned my hair up under my cap and wrinkled my nose. New York smelled. Frankie had told me to go to Brooklyn, fat lot of help that did. I chided myself silently. Frankie did the best he could with what he had, even if what he had was a head full of stories and just enough money for a ticket to New York when he died.

There was nothing I could do about it now. The sun would go down soon, and I was fairly certain I didn't want to be on the street alone at night. Not knowing what else to do, I started walking. After a bit, my nose twitched, I smelled a bakery. Going inside, a wave of conversations hit me, boys mostly, but I heard the ding of a register through the din and mad my way to it, careful to go around the voices so I wouldn't run into anyone.

"What do ya want?" The woman sounded old, but stiff. She wasn't one to take any bull. Keeping my head down I asked how much a roll was. "Three pennies." she said. A boy snickered behind me.

"You're lying." I said calmly. She shifted her weight on the counter.

"Prove it, boy."

I jerked my thumb behind me, "He laughed." I told her, "If you charged everyone three pennies for a roll, he wouldn't have."

"Fine, two pennies." she conceded. I pulled the money out reluctantly, it left me with only ten cents, but I still had to eat. She left for a moment and plunked a roll on the counter. I could here the crust hit the wood, it must have been sitting out for hours.

"No," I said, hoping I hadn't just wasted two cents, "I want one of the ones in back, they just came out of the oven." They smelled delicious.

"Why you pert little thing," she gasped, but went back to get my fresh roll. chairs shifted behind me, people were getting up. I pulled my cap a bit lower over my face. The woman came back and gave me my roll, it was still hot.

"Thank you," I said, then navigated my way back onto the street. It took much longer than it should have for the door to shut behind me. I started walking anyway, biting a chunk out of the roll as I went. There were three pairs of footsteps behind me, all heavier than m, but not heavy enough to be men. I slipped my half- eaten roll into my pocket and gripped my knife. I turned around to face them, "Is there any particular reason you're following me?" I asked. Their breathing put them all together, but one of them stepped forward.

"You'se trespassin' on Brooklyn territory," he said. His voice was clearly intended to be menacing, but it just missed the mark.

"Excellent." I said, surprising even myself, "I was hoping I was in the right place."

"Wha?" One of the boys was clearly shocked that I wasn't cowering in fear.

The third boy, the lightest of the bunch, walked over and grabbed my arm. I dropped my knife back into my pocket, "If he's so eager ta git a soakin' let Spot take care of 'im." The first boy grabbed my other arm and they began leading me, rather roughly I might add. I kept my head down as if in defeat, but internally I laughed. These boys were going to take me directly t the one person Frankie had told me to find. Spot Colon.

By the time we stopped, I could smell the water again. We were at one of the docks, though I was scared I may have lost track of the route we took. "Flames," the voice was high above my head, ten feet, maybe less, "What'ave ya got heah?" His voice was measured, controlled. No emotion was betrayed that he didn't want known. I had to admit I was impressed.

"Trespassah," the boy on my right, the light one, Flames said, "Said 'e wanted ta be in Brooklyn. Figard we'd take 'im ta you'se." I felt and heard Spot jump down from whatever was keeping him up so high. It was much softer than I expected, he must be quite nimble. Flames and the other boy let go of my arms and I tensed up instinctively.

I heard the punch coming and ducked, sweeping my foot out at the same time, trying to swipe his legs out from underneath him. He must have seen it coming because he jumped, giving me time to rise back to my feet.

"What business da you'se 'ave in Brooklyn?" He sounded determined, like he wasn't used to not making contact. His step squeaked on the wood, warning me of his next punch in time to swerve out of his way.

"A friend of mine told me you were the one to see in a," I paused, searching for the right word, "hostile environment." He took a series of punches, all but the last of which I managed to dodge. The last throw came from the right, instead of the left hook I had been expecting, and clipped the side of my jaw.

"Does ya friend 'ave a name?" He asked, still eerily calm. Most fighters would be mad at least by this point.

"Frankie," I said, my head slightly cocked. He had stopped moving. "You might know 'im as Mouth." A board creaked as he shifted his weight, he was just out of arm's reach ahead and slightly to the left of me.

"Mouth sent you'se?" There was a hint of genuine curiosity now.

"That's what I said."

He took a step forward, "'Ow is 'e den?" He took a swing at my gut just as I said,

"He's dead." As soon as I stepped back to avoid the punch, my foot slipped. He had been herding me to the end of the dock! I fell for only a second before hitting the water. It was ice cold, and try as I might, I couldn't find my bearings. A wave rolled over my head, sweeping my hat off and making me realize that I couldn't swim. I couldn't tell up form down and I resigned myself to my fate. I was going to die.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The POV switches every chapter or so. This is Spot's POV.

Blackjack, then dove in after him. He was just below the surface. I lifted him out and passed him up to Rev before climbing back up myself. Rev laid him down on the dock and he started to cough. He had a ridiculous amount of hair hanging in his face. Blackjack handed me my can, which I shoved through my belt loop before rounding on the boy, "Whadya mean Mouth's dead?" I asked, straining to keep my voice under control.

"Where's my hat?" he asked, the nerve.

"Answer me." I clipped, using all my energy to keep from soaking him, again. I needed some information first.

"It means just what it's all ways meant. He got himself into a fight and forgot his own cardinal rule. I felt it myself." There was something about him that wasn't quite,

"Move yer hair." I said. He tucked it behind his ears and finally looked up at me. It was all I could do not to cry out. There were milky clouds over his eyes, with a red line running through the both of them. One of my boys, Twitch probably, skittered back and fell behind me, and from the looks of it, most of the others wanted to do the same. And to top it off,

"Youse a goil," I said to him, her, "Youse a blind goil dat found 'er way ta Brooklyn."

"Took you lot long enough to figure it out." She stood up, but swayed dizzily, her back foot threatening to slip back over the edge. I grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her back out of reflex, realizing to late exactly what I had done.

"Ise," she cut me off.

"Look, can you find me a job or not. If not, I," her voice wavered, "I'll be on my way." I admit, I felt sorry for her; and there was no way I, or any of my boys, were going to let her fend for herself in the middle of Brooklyn with night half fallen all ready.

"Come wid us ta da Lodgin' House an we'll figure tings out from der."

"Fine then." Rev touched her arm and offered his hand so he could lead her there.

"If Ise may, miss," he waited for her to finish.

"Red," she said, turning her head towards him, "They call me Red. And thank you, but if you'll start walking I can follow just fine." Rev stood there waiting, confused, as were we all. How could she not need help? "Eight boys, even if they're trying to be quiet, make plenty of racket for me to follow. Besides," she added, "it'll make it much easier for me to find the way in the future." Not knowing precisely how to react, I did the only thing I could that would preserve my dignity. I started walking. My boys followed of course, but I resisted the urge to look back to see if Red was keeping up. I shouldn't have wasted the thought.

"Here's yer hat, Red."

"Thank you."

"Ise is called Blackjack by day way."

"Then thank you, Blackjack, for fishing it out of the water."

"Youse welcome." There was silence for maybe a minute.

"Hey, Red, where'd youse learn ta fight like dat? Ise ain't never seen someone Spot couln' hit." I gripped my cane.

"But he did hit me." My grip relaxed.

"It didn' even hoit youse though!" Before he knew it, the knob of my cane was at his neck.

"Do youse want ta get soaked, Specs?" I growled as Specs went paler than a ghost.

"It did hurt, actually." she said, a note of surprise in her tone, "In fact, it still hurts, but after you get hit enough you learn how to absorb it. If your fearless leader lets me stay, I can teach that to you, Specs."

I lowered my cane, "We'll see." Nobody said a word until we reached the Lodging House. I opened the door, stepped in, and was greeted by a dozen newsies asking a dozen questions each.

"Why is youse all wet?"

"How goes it, Spot?"

"Who's da dame with Rev?" and so on and so forth. I took my can out and banged it three times against the floor. Everyone shut up, and I saw Red's head whip around to face me. Rev was leading her to sit on one of the couches, perfect. I walked over to them and stood behind the couch were Red sat, twisted to face me. All my boys were quiet, waiting for me to speak and explain.

"Dis heah is Red." She turned and looked out at them. Of course, the whole lot started to mutter to each other, "Quiet!" They stopped muttering, "Now, Ise gots a promise ta keep, and Ise never breaks a promise. Red is goin' ta be livin' heah, wid us." I circled round the couch and sat on the table in front of her, "So," I asked, "what can youse do?"

"I can cook, if I know where the ingredients are. I can clean fairly well, though I do tend to miss spots." A small laugh rose out of the surrounding crowd, that I silenced with a glare behind me, "I could probably teach a few things about hand and knife fighting to anyone who is interested. I could always sell papers in the right neighborhood." even I nearly chuckled at that one, "Plus' she added hastily, "I know a fair bit about healing."

I held up a hand to stop the boys' excited whispering, "What kind of healing?" I asked, hoping she could do more than dress a wound, and even that was beyond most of the Brooklyn newsies.

"All sorts," she said, confused as to why I would ask, "I've splinted and stitched up plenty of boys after a fight. So long as no one cares that I have to touch what I'm stitching a lot more than your regular doc."

Looking around at the nods and grins on every boys' face, I really had no choice, "Youse hired." I told her. The boys let up a cheer and split to celebrate.

"For what?" she asked.

"Cookin', cleanin', doctorin', an teachin' if youse is asked ta do it. Anytin' else?"

"Yes," she said, "where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Right," I hadn't thought of that, "Who heah is willen' ta share der bunk?" I called out, several hands shot up, "Good, Specs an Tap, youse tow was da fastest, so youse gets ta share. Tap, Ise got yer bunk." I turned back to Red, "Der. Until other arrangements can be made, youse will take me room."

"I can't make them share." I was amazed, she was actually concerned.

"Its either youse take me bed, or youse bunk wid one of me boys. Yer choice." She sighed.

"Which way to your room?"

"Won't youse have a drink in Mouth's memory?" I asked, expecting the traditional 'I don't' drink' girls usually give, but half hoping she would say yes so I could find out more about what Mouth had done since he left Brooklyn.

"She smiled a little, "Believe me, I've had plenty." I took her to the stairs that led to my room. Before I left to go have that drink, she stopped me, "Oh, and Spot."

"Yeah."

"How many steps?"

"Eleven, Red."

"Thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's POV

When I got up, it took me a moment to remember why I was in a soft bed for the first time in what felt like ages. When I did, I shot up and started to feel around on the floor for my pack, before realizing I had left it at the dock. Damn. I whispered, tears nearly forming in my eyes. Everything I owned was in that pack, including the silk dress Mrs. Malloy gave me when Frankie and I stayed with her a while back. It was the nicest thing I ever owned and I left it at a dock!

I stood up and sniffed, there was no use crying over a dress, I told myself. Anyways, I had to make some sort of breakfast. Bread maybe, with coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I found the door and stepped out onto the landing, only to trip over something outside my door. My pack! I hugged it to my chest. One of the boys at the dock must have picked it up. I couldn't even muster up anger at them for leaving ti where I would trip over it, they apparently hadn't wanted to disturb my sleep.

After putting on one of my two work dresses and a petticoat, even though I hate the things, I walked down the eleven steps to the main room in much higher spirits than I had expected. As soon as I entered the room, someone stood up quickly.

"G mornin', Red. "

"Good morning, Rev." I smiled at him, he sounded so nervous.

"Ow did youse know it was me?" He shifted his feet and something snapped shut.

"Your voice," I told him, laughing a little, "I never forget a voice."

"Ise bet," he said, relieved, "Ise mean, Ise don t mean any disrespect or notin'."

"Relax, Rev. I know what you mean." He let out another sigh of relief, "Would you mind showing me the kitchen?" I held out my hand this time, there were too many things in this room I didn t know yet. He took it gingerly. His hands were softer than I expected. I heard him gulp, but he led me to the kitchen.

"Watch yourself der."

"Ders a couch over heah."

"Careful of da table an chairs." It seemed like it took forever to cross the room to the kitchen door, he must have weaved between every piece of furniture in the place! I followed him in, "Well heah wese are."

I tied my hair up with the ribbon I wore around my wrist, "All right, now I need to know where the oven and a counter is, and if you could tell me where to find flour, yeast, and water that would be great." He took a step towards me to take my hand again, "No, just tell me where to go this time. Unless, of course, you want to help me cook every morning." He stepped back.

"Well, da pump fer water is a yard in front a youse, da oven an stove is to da right a da pump a couple feet. Along da wall, das righ. Da ice box is on da other wall, along with a counter. Cupboards and tings are above da counter." As he named off each thing I walked over to it, memorizing their placement. I opened one of the cupboards and found it full of pots and pans thrown in haphazardly. I pulled them out until I found bread tins and a pot for the coffee. Leaving the pots and pans I had all ready taken out to be sorted later, I went to the next three cupboards.

I found two sacks of flour, a bag of potatoes, and way back in a corner, some yeast. I really need to find a market.

"Sorry." Rev said, "Wese usually ends up eatin' wherever wese can afford." I thought about that while I made the dough.

"Rev, do we have any beer?"

"Uh, yeah. In da ice box why?"

"Would you get me out a bottle?" The ice box clicked open and glass on glass clinker as he go one out. He popped the cap off and put the bottle on the counter next to me. I poured some of it on the dough and started kneading.

"What are youse doin'?" Rev cried, "Da younger boys can't ave beer!"

"All the alcohol bakes out, Rev." I said, "It's just for flavoring, what'd you think I was gonna do with it?"

"Ise tought youse was gonna drink it." Rev said sheepishly, "Ise should a known betta."

"I don't drink before breakfast, Rev." I said with a smirk, knowing that by now he would be flabbergasted. I finished kneading the dough and covered it. I made my way back into the main room and Rev followed. I plopped down on the first couch I could find and motioned to Rev, "Sit down." He sat as far away from me as possible. I huffed.

"How did you get the name Rev?" I asked, hoping to get a decent conversation out of him.

"Its Reverend ta tell da truth," He said, "Ise always got me Bible wid me." He leaned closer, "Ise want ta be a Preacha, see, but Ise got a little brodda ta take care of."

"So you can't leave him to go learn to preach." I finished for him.

"Yeah, he's sleepin' wid da boys in da bunk house. Bein' six, Spot lets im sell long as he s wid somebody." Rev flopped against the couch, "'Es worth it though."

"I'll be right back," I said before going back into the kitchen to put the tins in the oven and start a pot of coffee. To my delight, Rev didn't follow me in. He, and everyone else, would have to learn to let me alone or I would go crazy.

"Rev," I said, sitting back on the couch, "do you mind if I put a face to your voice?"

He shifted in his seat, "Whadya mean?"

"Come over here," I beckoned, he obliged, scooting close enough that I could reach out and touch him. "Now, put my hands on your face. I would do it myself, but I don't want to poke your eyes or something." I put my hands in front of me and he grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands up to his cheeks.

I ran my thumbs along his cheekbones, softened by a light layer of baby fat, and my fingers traced his jaw line. Despite retaining the baby fat, his jaw was square and strong. His lips were quite thin, though the bottom lip was much fuller than the top. The bridge of his nose was wide, but the actual nose was no bigger than average. From his nose, I ran my pointer fingers against his rather bushy eyebrows, keeping my thumbs below his eyes. He closed his eyes and his eyelashes brushed my hands. He wasn't wearing a cap so I ran my fingers through his hair. It was straight, and maybe half an inch long. "What color is your hair?" I asked him, pulling my hands back into my lap. He moved back to the opposite side of the couch.

"Brown," he said, "not nearly dark as youse though." I absentmindedly put my hand in my hair, even pulled back it reached the bottom of my shoulder blades.

"Is it still dark then?" it wasn't really a question, but Rev felt the need to answer anyway.

"Black as nigh", he said, Wai' how did youse know what it was before? I stood up quickly.

"The bread should be done," I said. What a stupid thing to say, even if it was true.

"Shua," Rev stood up as well, "I'll go an get da others up." I hurried into the kitchen to start cutting the bread. By the time I got back to the main room a dozen or so boys were all ready there, with more on the way. I set the bread down at one of the higher tables and told them to get in a line. The large amount of shuffling and shoving told me they had done so, so I held out a slice of bread and waited. There was a five second delay before someone took it.

"Tank youse, Red." I nodded.

"Coffee's over there." After he didn't get his head bitten off, the rest apparently had no problem with me. The bread left my hand almost faster than I could pick it up. Every newsie gave me a Tank youse, Red. To the ones I recognized, I said you're welcome. To the ones I didn't, I nodded. The bread was almost gone when I held out a slice and no one took it. Someone in front of me grunted and jumped.

"Ise can't reach, miss." said a small voice.

"Oh!" I lowered my hand, "I'm sorry. Are you Rev s little brother by any chance? You sound like him." The boy took the bread.

"Yes miss. Me name s Pint."

I leaned over the table, "Do you play marbles, Pint?"

"O course, miss!" He was astounded that I didn't all ready know.

"If you'll meet me in the kitchen once I'm done, I've got something I'd like you to have."

"Allrigh' miss." he said sheepishly, and then ran off.

"Tank youse, Red".

"Rev!" I should have realized he would be with his brother.

"I'll make sure e'll be der." Rev took the slice in my hand, "Ise da last one by da way. Asides from Spot dat is."

"All right," I bent to clean up the remaining few slices of bread, "Thank you." I left into the kitchen and put two slices aside before wrapping up the rest and getting to work on the dishes.

I was in the middle of the last bread tin when the kitchen door banged open, making me jump. I dropped the tin into the soap filled tub, sending bubbles and water splashing over me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I cried, remembering a second to late that it might be Pint.

"Ise was wonderin' why Ise didn get breakfast like da rest a da boys." It certainly wasn't Pint.

"Spot Conlon", I growled, trying not to scream, "If you had the decency to get up with the rest of the boys, you would get hot bread and coffee. Seeing as how you chose not to, you get yours cold." I walked over; picked up the slices I had set aside and held them out. He snatched them out of my hand.

"Ise gots 'alf a mind ta put youse on da street fer dat." He was inches from my face, I could feel his breath.

"Try it, I dare you." He backed up. We both knew there was no way he could kick me out now without outraging his newsies. I was the helpless little blind girl.

The door opened, "Miss Red, Ise come just like youse," Pint s voice cut off, "Oh, uh, mornin Spot. Ise is sorry ta interrupt." I rushed over to him.

"Don't be. Here," I reached into the pocket of my dress, "I thought you might like this." Pint took the marble. I had found it in the cupboard with the potatoes, and it felt big enough to be a shooter.

"Its pretty, miss. Thank youse." He seemed in awe, was it really that beautiful?

"You're welcome, Pint." I smiled at him, "Now go and carry the banner." He ran off and I listened for Spot. He had all ready left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts as Spot's POV. Switches to Red.

I left while Red was talking to Pint, careful not to bang the door again, though she would probably hear me anyway. Pint ran out the kitchen door and went outside; presumably to show Rev whatever Red gave him. The rest of my boys were all ready out selling.

"Spot, wait." Red called out from the kitchen. How dare she, after speaking to me like she had, just minutes before!

"What," I snapped. She was ridiculous, bubbles in her hair and no shoes. It wasn't proper. Course, she wouldn't be covered in bubbles if I hadn't startled her, but she shouldn't be so jumpy.

"I need money to go to the market. There's nothing but four and potatoes in the kitchen." Her voice was cold and her body was tensed like she was ready to fight.

"I'll have one a me boys do it." I told her, "Wha' do youse need?"

"If you'd just give me the money I'm sure I can find the market."

"Like youse said, wese can't 'ave youse roamin' da streets. Ise mean, what would me boys tink?" I smirked as her mouth opened in outrage, a gesture that was, unfortunately, lost on her.

"Fine then," she huffed, "I need vegetables, all kinds, more flour and potatoes, salt, pepper, meat if you can get it, and some fruit. Get oranges and lemons if you can, apples if you can't."

"An' if dat isn' in da budget?" I asked. Now she smirked which, even if she didn't know I did it first, still infuriated me.

"Figure it out, Conlon." she turned on her heel and walked back into the kitchen. Fuming, I left the Lodging House to go and get my papes, eating my bread as I went.

***

It couldn't be more than three in the afternoon, but all ready, I was ready to fall asleep. I had sorted and cleaned everything in the kitchen and the main room, and trying to make sure that I hadn't missed anything was proving to be a futile task. Dreading the thought of cleaning the bunk room and Spot's, or rather, my room; I welcomed a reprieve.

"Grocery delivery fer miss Red," a voice called from the door. I ran to answer it, by now knowing where all the furniture was after cleaning all of it.

"Thank youse," two boys came in once I held the door open.

"Where da youse want it, Red?"

"Just set it in the kitchen." I said following them in. I heard a pair of what were probably crates drop to the floor and knelt to explore their contents. As I took things out and put them away I decided to take the opportunity to get to know more of the Brooklyn newsies. "What are your names?" I asked them, they had been shifting about for a minute now, trying to figure out whether or not they should help me.

"My name is Bones an' dis is Tap." the one on the left said.

"I can hear why you're called Tap, Tap." I said, needing to hear his voice to commit it to memory.

"Sorry ma'am." his fingers stopped the jig they'd been doing on the counter top.

"Just Red is fine," I said turning to smile at him, "And thank you both for getting these for me." Even if Spot did order them to do it.

"Youse welcome," Bones said.

"Was it a good day then?" I asked, curious as to what was going on in my new city.

"Good enou'," Tap said, "Da headline was 'Presiden' ta Visit, New York City Prepare.' Notin' too hard ta sell."

"Tings get betta in Harlem, wese set." Bones said happily.

"Why?" I was intrigued, "What's going on in Harlem?"

"Notin'," said Tap quickly, he punched Bones lightly, "Youse don' need to worry 'bought notin', Red." I decided to let it go, for now.

I could smell the Lodging House from the street, and for once it didn't smell like sweaty boys, well, at least not for the most part. Walking in, half the boys were all ready eating, soup by the looks of it, and the other half were lined up at the kitchen door. Pint was handing them out bowls so I walked up to the front, as was my right.

"How goes it Spot?" Pint said, "Wanna bowl?"

"Nah let me through, Pint," that girl needed a talking to. Pint got out of my way. Red was standing at the stove ladling soup into bowls and passing them to Pint. "What da hell is goin' on heah?" I said, voice rising when she didn't react.

"Hello, Spot," she said coolly, "Do you want some soup?" she continued to hand them out.

"Half a da newsies in Brooklyn are in da otha room! How did dat happen widout me say so?"

"I don't know, Spot." she said, "Maybe they were curious. Why don't you ask them?"

"Ise ain't askin' them. Ise askin' youse." She didn't even say anything, just kept ladling. I reached around and grabbed her chin, spinning her around, "Look at me when Ise talkin' to youse!" I yelled.

"Go ahead and hit me, Spot." She said softly, her jaw tense, "See if it makes you feel better." Stunned, I lowered the hand I didn't even realize I had raised. She shook her head out of my grasp and shoved a bowl of soup into my hands.

"Red." I said quietly.

She turned her back to my, "Go and eat your soup, Conlon." I turned to walk out and barely heard her whisper, "You are nothing like what Frankie said you where."

I walked slowly back into the main room. No one spoke; I looked down at Pint glaring at me. I looked around, seeing Pint mirrored in all of them. I gulped and took a deep breath, "Eat youse soup." I said. There was nothing else to say.

The last of the boys in line were handed their bowls, and conversation started up again. Red didn't come out of the kitchen, but no one went in either. After a while, I couldn't stand all of them avoiding me, so I left to got o the dock. By the time I was close it was dark and the moon was out, but there was all ready some one sitting on my throne.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot's POV

I took a step forward and a voice rang out, "Speak." Metal glinted in the moonlight, she had a knife.

"It's Spot, Red." I said, "Ise thought youse were still in da kitchen."

"Well I'm obviously not." There was tiredness in her voice, but she hadn't lowered the knife.

"Why'd youse come heah?" I asked.

She shrugged, "It seemed like a good place to think."

"I'm comin' up," I warned her.

"Fine," she lowered the knife. I climbed up and sat next to her.

"Youse really shouln' be heah alone." I told her. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Why not?" she said, "I can take care of myself."

"Apparently not, if youse had ta come find me." I pointed out.

Her head whipped to face me, "You forget. I had to find you first."

"By getting' youself captured fer tresspasen'."

"Hey," she turned her head back to the river, "it worked didn't it." Indeed it did.

"Bu' still," I said, "it isn' safe fer a goil anywhere in New York righ' now."

"Because of things in Harlem?"

"'Ow did youse know 'bout dat?" She'd only been here a day for crying out loud!

"Bones just said there was trouble there," Damn him, "Tap stopped him before he could say anything else." Good boy.

"Well, youse don' need ta worry 'bout it."

"That doesn't mean I won't ask." I thought she might say something like that. We sat there for a few minutes in silence. Her hair blew over her face and she leaned into the wind, inhaling deeply. The dress she had on didn't look near warm enough in the wind, but I didn't have a coat to give her, though it was doubtful whether she would have accepted it if I had one.

"Why don' youse like me?" I asked, truly curious.

"What?" She laughed, turning to me.

"Don' laugh," I frowned, "Ise serious heah."

"Well you haven't exactly given me much to like," she was serious now too, "Yells and threats tend to be a turn off for some people."

"An' youse one a dem people."

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"It depends on whether yells and threats make up who the person is."

"Wha does dat mean?" She raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment before answering.

"It means you wouldn't have hit me." She said, "Which means that maybe you're still what Frankie said, at least a little bit."

"An' what did Mouth say?" I asked, "Abou' me dat is." She unfolded herself and laid back, feet dangling off the edge.

"He was in New York for a year, but you all ready know that. When he came back to me, well he had all ways told me stories. He made up things about everyone we met or saw on the street, but when I couldn't see the people on the street he started telling me about," she motioned all around, "this. Especially about the newsies, those were my favorite. I was particularly fond of the most familiar person in his stories, the brave Spot Conlon. A boy who was all ways ready to defend his friends, and who swore he would never break a promise. Frankie knew you were going to do big things, even at nine years old, he knew. He was right, of course, but can you blame me for being disappointed? For being mad that you weren't everything I had made you out to be. I should have realized that, at the time, Frankie was more interested in making me feel better than in being completely accurate. He was right about one thing, though."

"What's dat?"

"He said that if you made it as far as he thought you would, you would be completely insufferable."

"Smart guy, dat Mouth." I said with a smile. She laughed. I kinda liked making her laugh instead of scream, or want to scream.

"Yes, he was."

"Ise meant ta ask da other nigh'," I said, "How exactly di' Mouth die?"

She stopped laughing. "He went out with some friends and got into a fight with one of them who turned out not to be too friendly. Stabbed him in the gut and left him there. By the time I got there, there wasn't anything I could do."

"Wha' was da fight over?"

"What else do boys fight about? A girl." She sighed, "He had this rule, you see, never fight without a second man or a second knife. That night he didn't have either." She let out a big yawn.

"Youse know, I'm sorry 'bout what Ise did ta youse jaw," I said. She didn't answer, "Red?" I looked over to see if she heard me. She was fast asleep. It was my turn to sigh. I picked her up, thank goodness she was light, climbed down and headed home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red's POV

The days began to fall into a pattern. I got up and made breakfast for the boys, saving some for Spot who was inevitably late, cleaned what needed cleaning and got to know the newsies that came in and out of the Lodging House throughout the day.

There was Specs, who never seemed to know how far was too far until you made him listen, especially with Spot. I guess it just took more than his glasses to make him see things straight sometimes. I ended up having him as a regular student; teaching him to fight. After all, sooner or later he would push the wrong buttons at the wrong time, and I didn't want to see him dead because of it.

Tap and Bones, all ways together, but complete opposites. Bones was, as him name suggested, skin and bones; but he had a mouth to rival Specs. All though, his trouble was in giving out information he probably shouldn't. Bones used to be one of Spot's birdies, and finding out and then divulging the secrets of the newsie world became a habit he just couldn't seem to break. That was probably why Spot put him with Tap in the first place, one of those rare people who could know a thousand different secrets and not spill one. Personally, I think its keeping all those secrets that caused him to start tapping; but when I shared my theory with him in hopes that he might let certain secrets slip, I was quickly shot down.

Blackjack, originally from Queens, was willing to gamble on nearly anything; and was known as the biggest con newsie in Brooklyn. Spot liked to claim that Blackjack would bet his own mother if he didn't have any money left, which was often, but I've cleaned him out before and he didn't try it once. Of course, he claims that the only reason he lost was because we had to use my marked cards, but really, it's not like I'm the one who can see the bumps.

Twitch, whose name came not only from his easily frightened nature, but also from the undeniable urge to steal whenever something nice came within reach. Born out of years of scrounging before being brought into the newsie world, it was a habit that Spot had worked hard to rid him of. Except of course, as Twitch once told me, when Spot made a special exception.

Rev, Spot's unofficial, Bible toting, second-in-command. Being the only early riser, at least until I came along, he was in charge of getting the rest of the boys up in the morning, and his Sunday sermons were usually very well attended, if a bit dull at times. Well, actually, Rev's sermons were all ways dull, but no one's ever had the heart to tell him that it's really the whiskey he brings in place of Communion wine that his congregation likes.

Pint, as Rev's little brother and the youngest boy in the Lodging House, was annoying to many but tolerated, if not loved by all. Me, I loved him to death, even if Spot and Rev said I spoiled him too much. They also said he looks up to me, all most like a mother, which I like. It's nice to have someone looking up to me instead of looking after me. Plus, he was becoming quite the little adept with a knife.

There were plenty of others of course, but these were my favorites; the ones who most often made time for me, and I for them in turn. I had put faces to many of Spot's newsies, and by then, the ones I hadn't would probably never let me.

I did my work, I trained my boys. I should be happy.

"Hey, Spot." Specs waved and walked over to my seat.

"Hey, Specs, 'ow was sellin' taday?" My hundred papes had been gone for a while, but Specs sometimes had trouble.

"Ah, not so good a' first, but it picked up afta a while."

"Ise see," Specs turned and started to walk away, I grabbed his arm, "Where da youse tink you're go'in?" I asked.

"Red's expectain' me fer a lesson, an Ise don' wanna be late." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, "Her tempas been like, well it's been kinda shoit lately." He was going to say 'like yours.' Part of me was glad that he was learning how to shut up, but only a small part.

"Whadya mean her tempas shoit, wha' does she 'ave ta be mad abou'?" I had been perfectly polite talking to Red, ever since that first couple of days, so it couldn't be me. Specs fiddled with his glasses.

"She's been cooped up in da Lodgin' House fer a whole month now, Spot. Anyone would start ta go a little crazy." I leapt to my feet.

"She ain't crazy, Specs." Where did that come from? Specs took a step back from me, hands up.

"Ise didn' mean dat. Its just, youse neva lets any a us take her anywhere. She'd be 'appy wid goin' to da market wid Tap an' Bones." I sat down, still mad. If she wanted to go somewhere why didn't she just say so? Red still went to the docks by herself, though I all ways made sure to follow her up. I noticed that Specs was still standing there waiting for me to say something. I waved my hand at the door and watched him hurry out, thinking. My thoughts were very rudely interrupted by a messenger from Jack Kelley.

"Red!" I heard Spot yell from the door, but refused to let it bother me. Specs took a step in his direction, but I flicked my knife forward to brush his hand just hard enough to hurt.

"Never be distracted by something outside the fight." I told him as he re-took his position in front of me.

"Red," Spot barked again. I sighed and finished the fight, ending with my knife at Spec's throat. I was supposed to be showing him a new blocking technique and was getting tired of being interrupted. The first time had just been Blackjack coming after spending the night in Manhattan after a poker game ran long. Unfortunately for Spot, I was not in the mood to stop again.

"What do you want, Spot?" I slipped my knife back into the strap around my leg and crossed my arms to face him. He stomped over to me, well, he didn't actually stomp. It was more of a forceful walk, but it was easy to tell that he was using a fair bit of self control to keep it at that level.

"Did youse or did youse not soak a 'Hattan newsie?"

"What?" I hadn't soaked anyone in ages.

"Yestaday." He said, eerily calm, "a Brooklyn newsie soaked one a Jackie boy's new newsies. Now, da description Jack's little boidie, though not as good as mine 'o course, didn' match any a me boys. So it musta been me goil." Oh, that. I had forgotten about that.

"He started it," I started, but Spot cut me off.

"Ise don' care if he started it." He said, voice dangerously low, "Youse gonna come wid me an' wese gonna end it."

"You mean we're going to Manhattan?" Was that all I had to do to get out of this house? Soak someone? Despite myself, I smiled. Spot grabbed my wrist, which quickly wiped the smile off my face.

"Come on." He said, walking me out onto the street. I tried to shake my arm away, but his grip was to firm. Despite his rather slight build, Spot was quite strong; good in a lot of situations, not so good in this one. Trying to start a conversation proved pointless as well, so I focused on memorizing the way to Manhattan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red's POV

Judging by the length of time that had past we had to be nearly there when I started to notice that someone was following us. Spot seemed so intent on dragging me to face the music that I doubted he was watching anything but the path in front of him. He didn't see the two people that I heard, and smelt. I was used to the scent of a room full of working newsies, but at least the ones I lived with washed.

"Spot," I was quiet, but I know he heard me, "there's someone following us." He didn't say anything, but he did slow down a little and his grip on my wrist tightened. It wasn't ten seconds before Spot sped up again, he must have confirmed what I told him.

"Spot?" I needed to know why he was so intent on getting away. The Spot I knew, or thought that I knew, would have turned to fight. Even more than that, I hated not knowing who was a danger to me and better, why they were a danger.

The footsteps got closer and Spot's hand left my wrist; just seconds later a hand clamped down on my shoulder. It wasn't Spot. If someone had asked me later how I could be so sure of that, I wouldn't be able to tell them. This hand just didn't feel right. Without thinking, I spun out of the grip, unsheathing my knife as I did so.

"Spot?" I was louder this time, almost frantic. I could hear that a fight had broken out, but in the midst of the crowd that gathered I had lost Spot, as well as my attacker and his accomplice.

"Run, Red." He was right in front of me!

"No," I said, defiant, "if you fight so do I."

"Goil," he muttered. Before we could actually do anything, however, a whistle blew. "Police," he said, taking my hand, "act like youse me goil. Da others ran away." He whispered. We started to walk leisurely back toward the Manhattan Lodging House. I leaned into spot as he put his arm around my waist, and rested my head on his shoulder, smiling blissfully all the while. I heard someone run past us, but Spot didn't break character for at least another five minutes, if not longer. I wasn't really as focused on my surroundings as much as I should have been.

"Wese at da Lodgin' House," Spot said, distancing himself from me again. I followed his footsteps into a room that sounded a lot like the one in Brooklyn. Different voices of course, but the same general atmosphere. I liked it.

"Hey Spot, how goes it?" The voice was just in front of us, and was very friendly. Spot pulled me in front of him.

"Ise brought da goil dat soaked Bull." He said, trying to sound bored with the entire ordeal. I wondered, though, if anyone else would notice that the feeling wasn't genuine.

"Goil?" The boy, who I guessed was Jack Kelley if he was the one Spot introduced me to, sounded confused. He didn't seem as tough as he probably should have, and I couldn't help but wonder how he became the leader to begin with. "Bull, is dis who soaked ya?" He called back into the room. Bull lumbered over, the floorboards actually shook a bit.

"Ise didn' get beat by no goil," he said gruffly. I craned my neck towards his voice; I didn't remember him being this tall. Suddenly he took a step back and growled, actually growled, at me, "Devil's eyes." He said, fury emanating in his voice, "Yeah, she's it, Cowboy.

Jack sighed, "Well den Ise guess wese should get ta da bottom a tings. Why'd youse attack me newsie?"

"Me attack him?" I was shocked to say the least, "He attacked me. It was my first day outside in almost two weeks; I'm not the type to go around randomly picking fights."

"Dere must be some reason." Jack said, "Bull ain't to smart, but even he wouldn' try ta soak a goil."

"I wasn't exactly in a dress, but that's still no excuse for trying to kill me, intelligent or not." Jack turned to Bull, who was still behind him.

"Is dat true?" He asked. Bull took a step forward.

"She's da devil's mistress," he said, hate and spittle flying from his mouth, "Ise was try'n ta do da woild a favor."

"Get out." Jack said, his voice low and dangerous, "Youse ain't welcomed in Manhattan any longa." Despite my initial impression of him, I could now see why Spot respected Jack Kelley so much. Gone was the friendly boy who met us at the door, here was a leader, and a damn good one at that from my perspective.

As Bull reluctantly left he called back, "Youse gonna regret dis Kelley. She demons like dat'll kill youse soon as look at youse. She's all ready got Brooklyn, don' let her fool ya." Once the door swung shut behind him I finally noticed that the room had gone quiet.

"Come on," Jack said to Spot and I, "Wese should talk." He headed to the back of the room. Spot took my wrist and followed him. I could feel Spot's hand shaking.

"Ten steps," he said.

"Thanks." After going up the stairs, Jack led us through a door on the right.

As soon as the door closed behind us Spot exploded, "Ise wanna kill 'im!"

"Spot." It was more a plea for him to calm down than anything. As usual, it didn't work.

"Why'd youse even let dat scabba in?" he asked Jack, "Ise thought youse prided youself on yer judge a characta!"

"Den 'ow does dat explain why Ise like youse?" Jack shot back. I liked him more and more. He turned to me, "Look, miss…"

"Red." I supplied.

"Miss Red, den. Ise real sorry abou' what 'appened wit Bull. Please don' go judgin' da rest a us by his standard."

"Don't worry, Jack." I said, finally smiling again, "It's not the first time I've met some one like Bull, and I doubt it'll be the last. In my eyes, he isn't even a factor in what I think of the Manhattan newsboys. After all, everyone makes mistakes. Right, Spot?"

"Righ," he said begrudgingly. Jack chuckled under his breath.

"Is it true what 'e said den?" He asked.

"What part?" I asked.

"Da part 'bout youse an' Spot." Jack said, a little nervous.

"No, Kelley." Spot said for me, "He mighta seen us outside, but dat was because Ise didn' tink da police would suspect me wid 'er."

"Why was youse worried 'bout da police?" Jack asked, though I had a feeling that he wasn't entirely convinced by Spot's clever, though rather obvious change of the subject.

"Harlem boys," Spot said, leaving it at that. Unfortunately for me, Jack didn't push the question. "Wese should be headen back ta Brooklyn." He said.

"Wontcha at least stay fer a bit, Spot?" Jack said, "Give Red some time ta figure out what Manhattan newsies are really like."

Spot shifted his feet, thinking, "Please, Spot?" I asked hopefully. I hardly ever said please to him.

"Fine," he conceded, "but don' say Ise didn' warn youse, Red."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot's POV

When I woke up, it took me a few moments to realize that this wasn't where I was supposed to be. The last thing I remembered was Racetrack taking bets on who would win; me or…Red! I shot up in the bunk before a skull splitting headache hit me and sent me flopping back onto the bed. How much did I have to drink last night? Then I remembered, that was the contest. I could only hope that I won.

"You're finally up then?" Red's head appeared over my bunk, all smiles. Apparently I didn't win. I groaned.

"Don' talk so loud." She shook her head and sighed, but lightened her volume.

"Here," she plopped a roll down on the blanket. I picked it up and bit into it gratefully.

"Where'd youse get dis?" I asked between mouthfuls.

"Race took me to Tilly's. He's sleeping again right now."

"Why would 'e wake up ta take youse ta get me roll?" She shrugged.

"He owed me for helping him win his bet last night. By the way," she added, smirking, "are you always such a lightweight? I wouldn't have expected it from the great Spot Conlon."

"Ise Irish." I said as I tried to sit up again, my head in my hands.

"And short." She laughed, still trying to keep it quiet. I pulled my head up to look at her. She found this absolutely hilarious. I swung my legs out of bed.

"No shorta den youse."

"True, but I'm not the one so hung over they can't even get out of bed." I couldn't help but smile a little at that, after all, it couldn't be denied. Not to say I wouldn't try of course.

"Yeah, 'ow is dat? From what little Ise rememba, youse drank as much as me."

"Well…" I groaned, "That's kinda why Race bought me breakfast."

"Youse didn' drink anyting?" She crossed her arms in front of her.

"I'm not the much of a cheat." She had the gall to look offended. I rolled my eyes, bad idea, "I know my limit and when I got there I stopped. It's not that difficult to pawn an empty glass in front of a room of boys in various levels of drunkenness." She bent down and picked up my cane from underneath the bunk, holding it out to me. I took it and used it to prop myself up. Once I was completely standing, though not completely steady, I put it in its place through my belt loop.

Red held her arm out. I looked at it, then up at her face, then back at her extended arm. Internally, a debate was raging. Should I take it and let her help me back to Brooklyn? She was looking at me expectantly, almost in a 'you help me I help you' way; or maybe it was more 'I'm sorry I got you incredibly drunk to help someone I just met win a bet.' Either way it was more than a little confusing. Wasn't this the girl who, just moments earlier, had been laughing at me? Would she laugh at me all the way back if I accepted help, from her of all people?

Too late. She lowered her arm and her face fell. Out of impulse I reached for her and stumbled. She heard and moved to catch me, grabbing my arm and side as she did so. I looked up, our faces were inches apart. A strand of black hair fell into her face. My hand came up to brush it back behind hr ear before I could think to stop it.

"Red." I could barely hear myself say it, but I had no doubt that she did. For a split second I would have sworn our eyes met, but it must have just been the hangover because half a moment later she stood up as if nothing had happened.

"We should start home before everyone else starts to wake up." She said. I looked around at the rest of the bunks. Funny, I hadn't even registered that they were there, but Red was right. I didn't want to face them just yet after what I may have just yet after what I may have done last night. I grabbed my hat and took Red's arm. She raised her eyebrows a little in surprise, and a small smile appeared. We walked out and were a ways down the road before I said anything.

"Do youse really tink a Brooklyn as home?"

"What?"

"When wese left, youse said wese should start home. Did youse mean dat?"

"Oh," she paused, "yes I did, should I not?"

"No, it's grea' Ise just neva expected youse to Ise guess."

"I've been here for a month, which is just as long, if not longer than I've ever stayed in one place for, except for," her voice faltered and her hand started to move as if to touch her face, "except for once. The people that I care about are in Brooklyn. It's where I went when I had no where to go, and its still a place I feel safe. Isn't that home?"

"But youse not 'appy." Her face was turned away from me.

"Its not that I'm unhappy, Spot." Her voice was soft, "It's that you don't seem to trust me."

"Of course Ise trust youse," why would she think otherwise?

"No, Spot, I don't think you do." Her voice took on a hard edge that I recognized as being one that I used often, "The only time you let me leave is when you follow me to the docks. If I want to go anywhere else I have to sneak out."

"Ise just tryin' ta protect youse."

"How?" She bit back, "By leaving me to wander the streets that you so often claim are to dangerous? Did you ever think that going on a walk or going to the market with your boys might lessen that danger? That taking me around just once would mean I could find my way back on my own?" She shook me off her arm and finally turned to face me, "For God's sake, Spot; to get you to tell me anything about what's been going on in New York I had to get you drunk! You kept that the newsies are on the verge of a war with Harlem from me for a month. I couldn't even get anything form your boys because they're to damn scared of you to go against you in anything!" By now she was close to screaming, having lost any illusion of calmness.

"Youse took advantage a me!" I didn't even try to control my voice. I had been walking on eggshells with her for weeks, and was fed up.

"Please," she scoffed, "don't you dare try to make yourself the victim here."

"Da less youse knew 'bout Snake da less likely dat youse would get hoit."

"That's a fool's logic." How dare she call me a fool? "The mere fact that I'm living in the Lodging House is reason enough to think that I know plenty."

"Ise was gonna tell youse."

"When?" she was surprised out of her rage.

"When Snake developed a interest in 'Brooklyn's own little blind goil.'" I swallowed audibly. I hadn't meant to tell her about that; at least not yet.

"Why would he be interested in me?" Was it just me or was there a note of fear in her voice?

"Wese was 'open youse could tell us."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's POV

I was lost for words; my argument with Spot all but forgotten, for the moment at least.

"Youse shouldn' be heah." Spot collected himself first.

"Who's gonna stop us, Spot?" his tone was mocking but false. There was a part of the boy on the left that was truly scarred, of Spot and me I couldn't be certain; but he was certainly frightened of something.

All of a sudden the answer struck me, "Snake sent you to collect me, didn't he?" They didn't know if they would be able to beat the both of us. Normally I wouldn't have given it a second thought. Spot w3as known the city over for being as tough as Brooklyn itself, and if their leader wanted me they had to guess that I could at least hold my own. After last night, though, Spot still wasn't quite steady on his feet, with a wicked headache that my yelling earlier probably hadn't helped; and as much as I worked to hide it, I wasn't exactly in tip-top shape either. Unless the two boys in front of us were especially poor fighters, which I doubted, it was unlikely that Spot and I would leave a fight unscathed.

The one on the right took a step forwarded, and Spot touched my elbow as he took a step back. Stubbornly I refused to move. "Snake would neva be so rude," he said, honey dripping off his tongue, "Wese heah ta ask sweet Rawnie if she would come fer and audience wit him." How could he know? I didn't breath, I was in shock. Distantly, as if through water, I heard Spot.

"Youse got da wrong goil, go back an' tell Snake ta get his facts straight."

"Now, now Spot, youse don' really tink yer goil's name is Red?" I snapped back to reality and wiped the shock off my face. I reached back and found Spot's arm, bringing him back up next to me. Sensing what I was trying to do, he wrapped his arm around my waist and I forced out a carefree laugh.

"Of course he knows, but Mary is much too common don't you think?" My voice sounded weak, event o me. Thank goodness Spot caught on quickly.

"Afta all," he said smugly, "if she lives wit newsies, she's gotta 'ave a newsie name, an' Mary jus' don' cut it. Rawnie's kinda nice though, Whadya tink?"

I shook my head, sure they could hear my heart pounding, "I'm so used to Red now, it would just be confusing. Rawnie is pretty, but…" I trailed off and shrugged.

"Look heah, Mary," the boy on the left came forward and grabbed the shoulder farthest from Spot. Spot's hand on my waist tensed but he didn't move, for now. "Snake isn' gonna be very 'appy when he heahs dat youse declined his invitation, an' when Snake's not 'appy, tings don' go so well fer da rest a us."

"I'm afraid that Snake is just going to have to deal with it isn't he?" I said before he could go any further, "If the two of you would kindly excuse us, we'll be on our way." I put my hand on my knife as I spoke. It was a very thinly veiled threat, but an effective one. He removed his hand a stepped aside. The other boy followed him, and Spot and I headed toward Brooklyn.

Once we were out of earshot and I was certain they weren't following us I asked Spot if they were the same two that had attacked us yesterday.

"Yeah," he said, "they're Snake's boys through and through." We walked for a bit. I was scared he would ask me questions that I didn't want to answer, at least not yet. He managed to let me alone for all of ten minutes, but being Spot, he couldn't hold it in forever.

"Youse name ain't Mary, is it?"

"No."

"So it's Rawnie den?"

"No."

"But…?"

"My name is Red now, Spot, as you well know."

"Now maybe…"

"Spot!" My voice bit. I felt bad, as he was trying to be tactful. It really wasn't Spot's fault, but still, I didn't want to talk now.

"Later." He said as if he heard my thoughts. It wasn't a question, but a statement. The day seemed much later than it actually was. People were just coming out of their houses and trickling onto the street. A pair of children ran around screaming and laughing, with a tired sounding woman chasing after them. A girl, probably around my age, called out for people to buy her flowers. I caught the scent as she passed: roses and lilacs. Five or six men stood at a street corner, discussing work, weather, and their wives. I gave all my attention to taking in New York, paying no mind to Spot's lingering arm on my waist, or that Spot's scent of ink and fresh cotton was mixed with the smell of the whiskey that Kid Blink spilt on his shirt the night before, or how Spot's breathing was unusually deep and even, or Spot in general really.

By the time we got back home, it was time for Spot to start selling. The rest of the boys had all ready left, without breakfast I scolded myself, so Spot left me alone, though he was rather reluctant to.

"Promise me youse'll be careful." He said before leaving.

"I will if you will." I promised. It seemed to satisfy him because he left. As soon as I was sure he was gone, a lump came up in my throat. I rushed up to my room, curled up on my bed, and cried. I was shocked at myself. Even when Frankie died I hadn't cried, drank myself into oblivion sure, but I never cried. Now I sobbed. If Snake was who I thought he was, and to know my name he almost had to be, then I feared for my newsies.

Rawnie. I hated my name. It was a gypsy name, the ladies at the orphanage thought it fitting that I have the name of a wanderer. The trunk I came in, was left on their doorstep in, had been covered in stamps from all over the world, so it fit. They regretted it, though. My earliest memory is of climbing the gate that ran all around the orphanage, only to be pulled down after getting halfway to the top. By the time I finally ran away with Frankie I left often, sometimes for days at a time.

I remember the first time I met Frankie. It was also the first time I used a knife. Frankie was the younger brother of one of the group on men and boys that I had gotten into trouble with. I don't know any of their names anymore, but they found it funny to pit Frankie and I against each other. It was even funnier when I beat him, and for two years after that they trained the both of us to fight. People would pay good money to see kids fight they told us. Frankie hated them, and he hated that I didn't. I was in love with the whole world we were being put into.

I was seven when Frankie and I ran away, he was eight. I didn't know where we were going, but I packed my treasures: a knife, a rucksack dress, a Japanese fan that I have to this day, and ten cents, into a sack. I don't know if the orphanage ever looked for me, they were probably glad to be rid of me.

Frankie took me all over, never staying in one place for very long. Wherever we went he found somewhere we, well, I could prize fight. As much as Frankie hated that I fought, it was the only way either of us new how to make money, and it was good money, but when Frankie heard about newsies he couldn't resist a possible escape. Only a year after we left he left me for New York, leaving me with John and James. They were fighters as well, a few years older than us, and Frankie trusted them. He told me he would send for me as soon as he had the money.

My memories trailed off. I sat up in bed and wiped the tears off my face, I never questioned why Frankie never sent for me, just as I had never questioned anything Frankie did. Now I wondered, if I hadn't lost my sight, would he have ever come back? I didn't suppose I would ever know.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot's POV then Red's POV

I didn't want to leave Red. She looked ready to crack, but there was no way she would let me try and comfort her. I wasn't even sure how I would go about it if she didn't try to kill me first. Red promised to be careful if I did, it would have to do. Against my better judgment I left.

"Little late taday, Conlon."

"'Hundred papes." Mr. Dubon smirked at me through the window and handed me my papes. I swung the stack up onto my shoulder and rubbed my temple. My hangover didn't like the amount of information my brain was currently trying to make sense of.

Before today I hadn't really given Red's name a second thought. I knew it wasn't Red, that much was obvious, but that wasn't exactly uncommon. Nearly every name I heard was made up or given at some time or another, even my own. It could be dangerous to do otherwise, and at the time, I just assumed that Red had her reasons.

I sold a couple of papers to a pair of women and nearly ran into Twitch a block down.

"Hey Spot!" His eyes lingered on the gold top of my cane, but he would never even think about trying to steal it… again. "Where was youse an' Red last nigh' an' dis morning'?"

"Wese slept in 'Hattan." I said dryly, moving my hand to cover the top of my can. Twitch's eyes darted up to my face, shaking his head to clear it.

"Tanks," he said.

"Don' mention it." I was more sarcastic than strictly necessary and Twitch frowned a little.

"Why'd youse stay?"

"Red wanted ta 'ave a couple a drinks." Twitch raised his eyebrows, I remembered that he hadn't seen the side of her that could put away drinks like it was nothing, "Wese 'ad some trouble wit Bull."

"He da one Red soaked?"

"Yeah."

"Wad he do?" I looked at him sharply and he cringed.

"Do me a favor, Twitch."

"Yeah, Spot?" He looked up hopefully.

"Youse see any Harlem boys, especially Snake's boys, youse find me. Got dat?"

"Shua, Spot." He nodded, the hopefully look gone. He thought I was going to give him one of my 'special assignments.'

"Prolly within a couple a days." I told him. He smiled and I walked away, trying to think of what I could have him steal.

I sold twenty papes before my thoughts turned back to Red. "Rawnie." I said it to myself. If it was a name it was an odd one. It was pretty though in a way, much better than Mary. It had to be Red's real name. The look on her face when Snake's boys said it makes it almost certain. She looked like someone died, or came back to life.

What I couldn't figure out was how they could have known her name in the first place. Red hadn't told anyone, and they couldn't possibly have guessed it. Snake took over Harlem weeks before Red showed up, so he wasn't what make her come. He had to have known her at some point to be interested in a rumor of a blind girl living with the Brooklyn newsies. How long ago then?

On autopilot, the rest of my papes found their way to customers by lunch, but I had no desire to answer the questions I would get anywhere I usually ate. Inspiration struck. I headed in the direction of the Lodging House to see if I could get Red to make me something, or if need be I could make it myself. As long as I got the opportunity to talk to her I really didn't care.

I could see the Lodging House when Twitch ran up to me, "Harlem boys," he was breathing heavily, hands on his knees, "down at da docks. Ise ran ta find youse soon as Ise saw." I looked at the Lodging House for a long moment. The kitchen curtain swished as someone walked past. I took a step forward, but turned to put a hand on Twitch's shoulder.

"Tanks." I took off towards the docks.

***

"Red?"

"Yes? Pass me the big pot, Pint." He set it on the counter next to me.

"Are youse an' Spot in love?" My hand froze above the pot. Pint stood next to me waiting patiently. I dropped the carrots in and knelt to be about eye level with him.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Rev."

"And what did Rev say?" I was going to kill him.

"Ise asked him 'ow babies git heah," Oh no, "an' he said dat when two people loves each other dey gets a baby."

"Pint, what does that have to do with Spot and me?" He put a hand on my arm.

"Ise gettin' ta dat, Red." It was all I could do not to laugh at him, he was so serious, "Den Ise asked him 'ow youse knew when two people were in love so's da baby could come. Rev said dat when yer in love youse forgive each other when youse fight, an' protect each other, an' respect each other, an' wanna be near each other, an' know when da other needs ta be by demselves." He took a deep breath, "An' that's youse an' Spot."

I bit my lip. "Pint, I'm not in love with Spot."

"So Rev's lyin'?"

"No! No of course not. He gave you a very good idea of what love is."

"Youse an' Spot hold 'ands an' stuff though."

"I hold hands with everyone when I'm in a new place, Pint, you know that." He sighed.

"Ok, Red." I stood up and finished putting the stew together. I didn't think Pint was entirely convinced, but then again, there was a mall part of me that might not be entirely convinced either.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot's POV

I stumbled up the street. Pain shot through my entire body and I pressed my left hand to the hole in my right shoulder. My hand came off wet and sticky with my blood, my shirt was soaked in red. Red. My vision swam in front of me. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that home had to be close by. There was the door, and a light in the window. A shadow passed in front of it. Red. The door opened, spilling light out onto the street.

"Spot!" I heard Rev yelling and I was picked up. Unwillingly, I cried out in pain as my shoulder was jostled, not to mention the numerous other cuts and bruises that I had received. I was carried in and they tried to lay me gently on one of the couches. It didn't work, but I refused to cry out again in front of my newsies. Even in the state I was in I could attempt to maintain some semblance of control.

"Red! Red it's Spot, he's hoit." Through everyone crowded around me I saw her run through the kitchen door. Red.

"Everyone except for Rev and Specs get out," she yelled. She was furious and panicked at the same time. No one who knew what was good for them disobeyed when she sounded like that. The room cleared out quickly and she knelt by the couch. "Specs get my kit out of my room." He disappeared up the stairs, "Rev how bad does it look?"

"He's covered in blood, it don't look good that's fer shoir." Rev's voice cracked. Red softly laid her hands on my chest, feeling for wounds.

"Spot, where does it hurt most?" she asked, as if I were a child instead of the leader of Brooklyn.

"Me shoulda," I sucked my breath in sharply when her hand brushed the bullet hole.

"Damn it, Spot." She whispered.

"Red, Ise got da kit," Specs was back. She took it from him and opened it, taking out a bundle of cloth. Then she grabbed her knife and slit my shirt open from the neck down after remembering just in time to undo my suspenders. She folded my ruined shirt over to reveal my bare shoulder.

"Me shoit!" That was one of the only two I had. She smirked a little.

"I'll make you a new one. Rev, I might need to have you hold him down for me." She pressed the bundle of clothe down hard on the hole.

"Mother of!" I yelped before clamping my mouth shut

"Say it."

"Pulitza." I let out a huge breath.

"Spot, the bullet's still in there." She sounded nervous. She even brushed a loose strand out of her face that normally she would have left be.

"So?" What did it matter it… oh.

"It's got to come out." Her mouth was set in a tight line. "Specs go and get the whiskey that everyone thinks I don't know about." Specs' and Rev's eyes got wide but he rushed into the bunk room and brought the bottle. Red opened it and held it near my mouth. I moved my head so I could reach it and took a gulp.

"What's it suppose ta do, make it not hoit as much?" I asked.

She shrugged a little and took a swig of it, "It's just as much for me as it's for you." She reached into her kit and pulled out a small circular piece of wood. "Rev hold his left arm and torso, Specs get his legs." She clumsily put the wood into my mouth; I could feel teeth marks on it. "Bite it." She said. She took the bundle of now blood soaked cloth off my shoulder and put her hand in its place. Red took a deep breath and put two fingers into the hole.

My neck arched, my entire body would have as well if Rev and Specs hadn't been holding me down. I screamed, biting down hard on the piece of wood, though it did little to muffle the sound. It was worse than being shot in the first place, this pain. The bullet had come quickly, and the adrenaline pumping though me kept it from hurting for a while after. This though, this was long, a continuous pain with no adrenaline rush to keep it at bay. My last sight was of a tear rolling down Red's cheek as she pulled the small grey slug out. Then everything went black.

"Bring him up to my bed, it'll be more comfortable there."

"Is he really goin' ta be allrigh', Red?"

"He will if I have anything to say in the matter." Two pairs of hands carefully lifted me and started moving. I fell back into blackness.

"Red?"

"Yes?" she sounded so tired.

"Are youse scared fer him?"

"Yes, Pint, yes I'm very scared."

"Me too." My eyes opened just long enough to see her pull him into a hug before I was pulled back.

"Spot Conlon, if you don't wake up soon I swear I'll never forgive you." Red was alone with me this time, but I didn't open my eyes. I wanted to hear what she would say next. "Your boys need you Spot." She whispered, "Rev isn't read to lead them, not yet. Please, Spot. You can't both leave me." The door opened and someone stepped inside.

"How is 'e?" What was Kelley doing here?

"The same, Jack."

"An' youse?" Red sighed softly, "Red, youse gotta get some sleep."

"I have to take care of him."

"Der ain't notin' youse can do righ' now."

"I've still got to feed him and make him drink and," he stopped her.

"Any a us can do dat, Red. Der ain't no use in youse makin' yerself sick. Yer boys are getting' worried about youse." He broke off, "Youse love 'im doncha?"

"Of course I do. I love all of the Brooklyn newsies."

"Youse know what Ise mean."

"No" she was defiant, a tone I knew all too well, "I don't." She stormed out.

"Spot," Jack was quiet, "Ise really 'ope youse know what youse doin'." He left and I fell back to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot's POV

When I finally woke up, for good this time I hoped, Red was asleep. She was lying on the floor using a sack as a pillow. My entire body felt stiff and I found that approximately fifty percent of my body had some sort of bandage on it. I sat up slowly using only me right arm and the door opened.  
"Youse awake." It was Rev carrying a couple of sandwiches.

"Quiet," I hissed, pointing at Red. He noticed her and surprise and relief flitted across his face.

"Bought time," he whispered, "she 'asn't slept a wink fer as long as youse been asleep."

"How long?" I asked, matching his whisper.

"All most tree days." he knew better than to sound like he was accusing me of anything, but I knew him well enough to hear the undertones in his voice.

"Why didn' youse make 'er leave?" I challenged, confident that I had him beat.

"Ise ain't youse, Spot." he ran a hand through his hair, he never wore a cap, and looked me straight in the eye.

"Youse me second, Rev. Dese past couple a days, youse had ta be me."

"Ise told ya a long time ago," he said, refusing to look away, "Ise didn' want ta be yer second. Ise still don't. Wese both knows dat Ise can't be da kinda leada youse are. Ise can't make da newsies me whole life, Spot. Pint comes foist, youse know dat, and as fer me orderin' Red around, youse can't be serious. She barely listens ta youse, let alone da rest a us! It's like tryin' ta tell youse da do somtin', it jus' don work." I shot him a glare at the last part, but it couldn't be denied. The issue of him not being able to lead would have to be thought about another day though, Red was starting to wake up.

Rev leaned and handed me the sandwiches, "Still," he said, "it's good ta have youse back," he shot a glance at my bandaged shoulder, "sorta. Fair warnin' though, Red ain't to 'appy wit youse." He smiled, just on the edge of a smirk, and left quickly.

Just moments after the door shut behind him Red sat up on the floor, stretching her arms above her. Mid-stretch she froze and sniffed, "Rev?" she smelled the sandwiches.

"Hey, Red." I said, I couldn't help but grin at her. Her dark hair was flying every which way out of it's ribbon, and the look of pure joy on her face that unfolded as I spoke was priceless.

"Spot!" to my alarm, the joy suddenly turned to fury, "Spot Conlon, how could you be so unbelievably stupid?"

"Whad Ise do?" I blurted out.

"What did you do?" she yelled, "You go and get yourself soaked beyond reason, and when even that isn't good enough for the great Spot Conlon you manage to get yourself shot as well! Do you have any idea how worried I was? How much you scared everyone? You might be able to live without Brooklyn but Brooklyn's boys certainly aren't ready to live without you. I know you have to defend your territory, and Twitch told me you were going after Harlem boys; but that's no excuse for being an idiot." She drew in a big breath but deflated, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed, "Did it ever even occur to you to at least bring someone with you?" My mind flashed back to that first time out at the docks.

'He had this rule, you see, never fight without a second man or a second knife. That night he didn't have either.'

"Youse righ'," I said carefully, not wanting to upset her further. She cocked her head in confusion, "It was dumb a me ta go alone. Nex' time, youse goen' wit me." She slid off the bed and backed up.

"No."

"Whys not?" She looked half scared to death.

"I think you're smart enough to figure it out." I attempted to swing my legs out to the floor as I'd always done, but forgot about my injuries. Pain shot from a dozen bruises and cuts. Red rushed over and moved my legs back to where they'd been. She was careful to avoid touching any of the places I hurt, no small feat. As she leaned over to adjust the blanket I caught her chin and turned her to face me. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed. I was glad she finally realized I would never hurt her.

"Wha'd he do ta youse?" I whispered half to myself. Red reached up to grab my right hand and moved it to touch her closed eyes. She kept her hand on mine and finally told me.

"When I was eight years old Frankie left me for New York, putting me in the care of two boys called John and James. They had none of Frankie's," she paused searching for the right word while I held my breath, unwilling to break the spell, "inhibitions when it came to my fighting. Eventually, they got me a fight with Nathanial Cross, who led the area we were in at the time. He was years older than me, I don't know how old he would be now." twenty-four I thought to myself. Snake is twenty-four now, he would have been sixteen. "I wasn't supposed to win. Cross led with an iron fist, no one dared bet that I would win. Bets were taken on how long I would last instead." Her voice broke off and I wondered if she would go further. I moved my left arm with difficulty, but managed to take her free hand in mine, "I all most won," she breathed, "As it was, I gave him a long gash on the side of his face before his bully boys intervened. Because I dared to be better than he was, he held me down, took my knife, and," she stopped and brought my hand down from her face. Her eyes flickered open and as if for the first time, I saw the red streak that ran across the milk white of her eyes. This close, I noticed the tiny scar that continued the line across her nose. "It was almost two years before I wore that knife, or any other, again. That's when I started to learn to heal." I leaned closer to her, a hair's breadth away, and her eyes closed. Mine shut and I brought a hand up to cup her cheek, nothing. I opened my eyes and she was across the room.

"Ise sorry." I sighed.

"Don't be." she said, "It's true that I'm scared of Snake, but it's more because of what I know he's capable of than of what he might do to me. Either way, I may not know exactly what you look like, but I still see you, Spot."

"What da youse see?" I asked. She smirked.

"Eat your sandwiches, Spot. I'll let everyone know you're awake." I watched her leave and took a bite.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's POV

I spent the next two weeks baby sitting the King of Brooklyn. Spot, of course, had insisted that he didn't need any help, but he stopped arguing the first time he fell out of my bed and couldn't get himself up. This last week he's been pretty independent all things considered. From a doctoring standpoint I was happy with how he's healing. From a personal standpoint he couldn't heal fast enough.  
Mornings were the worst. Now that Spot had an excuse to sleep late, he never did. He woke up as soon as I did, me on the floor and him in my, well it used to be his, bed. Rev was usually downstairs by then and he and Spot talked while I made breakfast. The one time Spot tried to help me with breakfast was the last time. I could still smell a whiff of smoke whenever I was in the kitchen. As soon as the boys left to sell, though, we were alone until lunch, sometimes later. And that was the time I couldn't look forward to.

We didn't fight. I wish we did. It would make things so much easier if we fought. Instead, Spot hardly spoke to me, and when he did there was undeniable pity in his voice. Part of me had known that he would react this way when I told him how I went blind. Another part of me still hoped this was just a stage, that he would go back to the way it was before. I am not proud; I clung desperately to that hope.

Today was the first day all Spot's bandages, excluding the ones on his shoulder, were removed, and he was restless. "Spot, would you stop pacing? I can't concentrate."

"What da youse need ta concentrate on?"

"Nothing, I just can't hear myself think."

"Allrigh'," he stopped and sat down on a couch. I resisted the urge to groan. I walked over to the door, "Where is youse goin'?"

"Out."

"Ise comin' wit." Before I knew it we were out on the street, his hand loosely around my wrist. I turned and started to walk the familiar route to the docks. Spot stopped me, tightening his grip,

"Ise taught wese was goin' ta da market or somtin'."

"When have I ever gone to the market, Spot?"

"Neva."

"Exactly." I resumed walking, only to be jerked back.

"Ise not goin' ta da docks, Red." There was a delicious edge to his voice that I realized I had been missing.

"Then don't." Please don't just go back in, I pleaded silently.

"Ise not abou' ta let youse go by yerself." he was firm.

"I'm not the one who's crippled." I was baiting him shamelessly, and I didn't care.

"If any-one's crippled heah it's," he broke off and I cursed under my breath. Stupid Spot, and his stupid that I didn't need. I shook his hand off me and walked away. He followed.

When we reached the dock I climbed up to Spot's place and instead of sitting beside me as he had a dozen times before, he sat a crate below me. I breathed deeply, letting the breeze muss the hair that all ways escaped my ribbons. Spot didn't make a sound. After a while I slid down next to him, "Do you want to hear something terrible, Spot?" I said quietly. He didn't say anything, "I would rather you yell at me than pity me."

"Ise don' pity youse."

"Don't lie to me, Spot."

"Ise ain't lien'," he got defensive.

"Oh?" I gave a half-hearted laugh, "then why haven't you been the same these past coulple a weeks? Why do you watch every word you say to me?"

"Ise just can' stand ta tink dat anyone could hoit youse!" There it was out.

"Spot, plenty of people have hurt me." I was quiet; I hadn't been expecting this.

"But youse hoit dem back, don' youse?"

"No." he huffed, he didn't believe me, "Not all the time."

"How can youse say dat youse don' want me goin' afta him?" he asked, "Youse should want ta kill 'im yerself." It was a dry statement.

"I do." I felt him turn to face me, his knee brushing against me.

"Da Red Ise know, wouldn' be sittin' heah tellin' me. She would be out der doin' it."

"Maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do." He shifted closer.

"Maybe Ise want to." I could feel his breath, "Help me undastand, Rawnie." I didn't protest at his use of my name. I should have, like I told him before, I was Red now."

He was going to kiss me. It might have just been relief that things were going to go back to the way they were, no that was wrong. Things would never be quite the same, but for some reason I was o.k. with it. And this time, I wasn't going to get out of the way. I could feel his skin just millimeters away from mine when he sighed.

"Someone's comin'." he said, pulling away. Sure enough, I heard the footsteps that had escaped my notice earlier. "Jack?" Spot called, "Whater youse doin' heah?"

"Lookin' fer youse." Spot jumped down to land in front of him, "Youse an' Red weren't at yer Lodgin' House an' dis was da next logical place ta look."

"Well youse found me, what da youse want, Jacky-boy?"

"Its Snake." I held my breath, please don't say what I think you're going to say, Jack, "He wants ta have a meetin'." Oh, thank goodness.

"What kinda meetin'?" Spot asked the same question I was thinking.

"Well, its not a meetin', exactly." Jack shuffled his feet, "He proposed a way ta beat 'im witout a full out war. If he looses, he leaves. If he wins, he gets da newsies."

"No!" I cried out above them. I scrambled down from the crates, "He'll kill you, all of you."

"Red!" Jack seemed surprised for some reason, "Ise didn' see youse up der."

"Spot, you can't fight him, promise me you won't try and fight Snake." He didn't say anything, but grabbed my arms to stop me. He turned to Jack.

"He wants ta fight all da leadas fer control a da boroughs?"

"His exact words was 'tell 'em ta bring der best ta fight me,' bu' yeah."

"Wha' does ever'one else tink? Are dey game?" Spot's voice was careful, controlled.

"If youse game, so are dey."

"Where ave Ise heard dat before," Spot muttered before asking, "An' youse, Cowboy, what are youse gonna do?"

"Ise not gonna lead me newsies inta a war. Ise'll fight." There was a steel in his voice that I hadn't heard before.

"If youse loose?" Spot let the question hang. I could hear Jack's gulp.

"Den 'Hatten will 'ave gone down fighten'. Snake's givin' his word dat no 'Hatten newsie will be harmed if he wins." Except Jack. The three of us knew that if Snake won he wouldn't let the previous leaders stick around to oppose him.

"Ise tought youse would say sometin' like dat." Spot said coolly, "Tell da others dat Ise in."

"Its tanight, at da old warehouse in Harlem, youse know da one." So soon? Jack gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as he walked past. He had his own family to take care of. Now how could I protect mine?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot's POV

"Spot. Spot!" Red was behind me as I walked into the Lodging House, well more stormed, "You're being crazy, Spot. There is no reason for you to go and get yourself killed! And if you go to Harlem tonight, that's exactly what's going to happen." I spun around, finally exploding.  
"What! Youse tink Ise not good enough ta beat yer precious Snake?" She recoiled as if I had slapped her, and I immediately regretted what I had said.

"No, I don't actually. If it were a fist fight or you used your slingshot, you might win. If you could actually use your left arm, you might win. But this is going to be a knife fight, Spot, and you can't beat him. Even if your shoulder was healed I don't think you could beat him."

"Youse really tink he's dat good?" She turned her face up to me, hair more down than up. Her jaw was set.

"With a knife? The best I ever fought, and you can bet he'll use a knife, even if you don't." She softened, "Please don't do this." I reached a hand up to stroke her cheek, to my surprise she leaned into my touch.

"Ise don' 'ave a choice, Rawnie." She knew I would never ask one of my boys to fight for me. I was both to proud and to unwilling to see any of them die for that.

"I do." she breathed. It took me a moment to realize what she meant.

"No." I wouldn't let her.

"Yes." she sounded so finale, "You won't ask your boys, but your girl's willing to go. I suggest you take the offer." Did she just call herself my girl? "Spot, I'm the only one who has any real chance at beating him."

"Youse ain't gonna take no fer an answer are youse?" I managed to laugh a little, but my attempt at lightening the mood fell flat.

"I told you a long time ago that I could take care of myself."

"Ise rememba."

"Now I've got a lot more to take care of."

"Ise can take care of meself too youse know." She smirked, but it was much sadder than I would have liked.

"Cocky, who ever said I was referring to you?" She slid a hand to the back of my neck and pulled me into a short, but to long in the coming, kiss. I buried my hands in the curls of her hair, but to soon, she pulled away. "Don't let Rev tell them until we're gone." she whispered before rushing past me and up the stairs to her room. She was right, I would tell Rev and have him wait to tell the rest. They would only try to stop her, talk her out of it. I should be stopping her.

I finally knew what Rev meant when he said he couldn't choose between the newsies and Pint because Pint would always come fist. I had never understood before, the newsies were my life, are my life. I just need a reason to live it. I paced the floor, I had to believe that Red, my Red, my Rawnie, would be here tomorrow morning. I made myself believe it. Any other option was unacceptable.

"Youse ready?" I knocked on her door, she hadn't come out since this morning. She stepped out dressed the way she had been the fist day she came here. A cap covered her hair, and though I couldn't see her knife, I knew it was there.

"Did you explain things to Rev?"

"Yeah, he don't like it none, but he won't tell dem anyting till wese gone."

"Good, good." she sounded distracted.

"Youse all righ'?" it was a stupid question, of course she wasn't all right.

"Yes, of course." not that she would ever admit it, "I guess I just expected you to try and stop me."

"Youse sayin' it would woik, because den by all means, Ise'll try." She shook her head.

"No, it wouldn't work." she smiled grimly, "Shall we go then?"

"Yeah." We slipped out her window, no need for questions from the boys that we couldn't answer. She stayed a couple steps behind me as we walked to Harlem. Neither of us said anything, even when there was so much to be said. Every minute or so I looked back at her just to make sure she was still there. Her face was blank, there was no telling what thoughts were running through her head.

I stopped when we reached the warehouse. A glow of light shone in the windows and voices could be heard through the walls. Given that it would only get louder, it was smart to choose a building so far from anyone that could be disturbed. Or anyone who might be available for help. I shoved the thought out of my mind.

"Are we here?" Red's voice broke my wandering.

"Wese heah. Listen, Red, before wese go in," I dug around in my pocked before finding the small switchblade, "dis was Mouthe, er, Frankie's. He left it heah when he went back ta youse." I pressed it into her hand. "A second knife."

"Thank you." she bent and tucked the knife into her shoe. Out of the blue, she wrapped her arms around me in a hug. I returned it, grateful that she wasn't completely shut off to me. "I'm scared, Spot." she whispered.

"Me too, Rawnie." I whispered back, "Me too." We stood there like that for all most a minute before I pulled away, "Wese should go in." I led her into the warehouse, thankfully Jack was the fist person I saw.

"Hey, Spot."

"Hey, Jack."

"Hey, Jack." Red said behind me. Jack looked at her, then at me, then back at her before finally coming back to me, daggers in his eyes.

"Youse lettin' Red fight?" he said, leave it to Kelley to be concerned about her welfare at a time like this.

"I'm a big girl, Cowboy. Spot didn't really have much of a say in the matter."

"So, hes didn' ask youse ta fight fer him or notin'?" Jack asked her. She managed to laugh.

"No, he didn't."

"Den, Ise suppose," Jack stared at her in disbelief, "Ise suppose der isn't a problem."

"Did youse bring Race or Davey wit youse?" I asked him, looking around to see if I had missed them.

"Na. Ise don' need Race makin' bets heah, an' dis isn't David's fight. Ise alone."

"Youse know Race wouldn' do dat, an' Davey wouldn' care if youse was fightin' nuns."

"Ise just needed a excuse." That, I could buy. Jack didn't want his boys to see him fail anymore than I did.

"So when is everything supposed to start?" Red asked.

"Now that you're here, now."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's POV

"Snake," I nearly hissed his name, but didn't pull away when he took my hand and kissed it. Spot took a step forward, but thankfully stopped himself for the same reason I did. Even Snake wouldn't dare spoil his chances at victory by starting something here, if Spot or I stated it though, that was a different matter entirely.

"Rawnie, my dear, you've no idea how happy I am that my guess was correct. Long time, no see." His grip tightened for a moment before letting my hand drop, disappointed at my lack of reaction to his word choice, "I was surprised, though," he continued, "to discover you here in New York after all these years."

"I could say the same." I worked to keep my voice level, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

"You've certainly grown up quite a bit since the last time I saw you. Who knows, perhaps when I'm done with Spot, I'll keep you." A cold chill ran up my spine, my every instinct screaming at me to get far, far away. I stood my ground, silently praying that Spot kept calm.

"'Aven't youse hoid?" Jack said behind us, "Youse ain't fighten' Spot tanight."

"Ah, a rematch then, Rawnie?" He was unreadable.

"Yes, and I go by Red now."

"So they told me." Spot put a hand on my wrist, in that one movement calming my nerves and sending my pulse skyrocketing at the same time.

"Are wese gonna start now or not?" He asked Snake.

"Of course." Snake sneered. We followed him into a large room farther back in the building, large enough that the voices of the newsies echoed all around me.

"Spot, how many people are here?" I whispered.

"'Bout thoity," he whispered back, "youse can't tell?"

"The echo's messing me up, stay near me." He put my hand on his arm to guide me.

"No problem."

"Hey ya, Conlon, how are tings in Brooklyn?" a small, but confident voice came up to us.  
"As well as can be expected."

"Ah, yeah, Ise hoid abou' yer shoulda, is dis da dame everyone's been talkin' abou'?"

"Yeah, dis is Red. Red, dis is Wheels. He runs Queens."

"Good to meet you." I held out my hand and he shook it, his grip was firm but his hand was as small as mine. I was rather impressed, though, when he didn't react when I looked at him. Even the best of people usually recoiled initially.

"So it's true den," he said carefully, "she's da one fighten' in youse place, Spot?"

"Who else?" Spot replied blandly.

"Ise dunno, Rev, Specs, and Blackjack, any of em. Ise just wouldn' feel to comfortable placen' me 'opes in some goil, especially one like her."

"This goil is blind, not deaf." I said coldly, I had met people like Wheels before, and didn't care to get to know another one. Spot led me away.

"Ise sorry 'bout dat. Ise didn' know he would be so…"

"It's fine." We left it at that. A ways in front of us Snake raised his voice to speak.

"You all, of course, are well aware of the reason you are here. I will fight each representative of their borough. When I win, the borough is mine. If anyone of you manages to beat me, all previous fights are null and void, and I leave New York. This is a compromise that will keep us from the war that I'm sure no one here wants. My opponent will be drawn randomly form a cap to keep things fair. The rules of the fight are simple. Knives or fists may be used. The first one to yield or die, looses. Shall we begin?" A space in the middle of the room was cleared. Someone called out,

"West Side!" The crowd murmured around me and someone stepped to the center with Snake. I clutched at Spot.

"Tell me what's happening."

"Dane's da leada a Wes' Side." He leaned into me, "He's big, Prolly 'bought Bull's size. He an' Snake shook 'ands, now der standin' in da middle. Dane's all crouched an' noivous, his 'ands are shakin' a little."

"And Snake?" He was the one I really needed to know about.

"Snake's jus' standen' der. His knife ain't even drawn." I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. If he was this confident, the small part of me that all ways doubted grew larger, how would people react when he beat Dane? Would they think it was rigged? I hoped not. Spot's voice jerked me back to the real world, how sad was it that this was my reality?

"Dane's bleedin', his arms Ise tink. Snakes circlen' im." The crowd cried out, "It's done." Spot sighed, "Dane yielded, Wes' Side's lost."

"Not yet." I told him, squeezing his arm, "It's not over yet." He took my hand and squeezed back. The crowd quieted down, waiting for the next call.

"Manhattan!" Jack! We had lost him on the way in here and now he… I listened for his steps into the circle. There, I couldn't help him.

"Der shaken' 'ands." Spot kept his voice even for my sake. I was ready to burst at the seams, "Jack don' look noivous." We both knew he was, "Snake darted in, bu' Jack blocked it. Snake went in ta attack an' Jack swerved away." Attack him, Jack, I screamed to him in my head. Snake was just wearing him out, waiting until he was too tired to go on defending himself. Sure enough, after minutes of dodging blows, Jack was on the ground with Snake's knife at his throat. The only sound was Spot's stream of commentary.

"Yield." Snake said. Jack hesitated.

"I yield." His voice cracked as he said it. I let out a halting breath. Jack made his way over to Spot and me, "Ise failed." He said it as if in a daze, "Ise failed me newsies." I reached out and took his hand.

"Listen to me, Jack Kelly." I said, keeping my voice soft, like I would with an injured animal, "There isn't one boy in the Manhattan Lodging House that would rather you died out there just now, not one."

"Youse got ta beat 'im, Red," he said, "If youse lose…" his voice trailed off.

"I wasn't planning on it." I told him before letting go of his hand. He stood by my side opposite Spot. Queens was called out, and I found myself torn between wanting Wheels to fail simply because I disliked him; and hoping he would succeed for Queen's sake, for Jack's sake, and for my own.

"The fight didn't last five minutes before Wheels was dead. Spot stiffened beside me, finally realizing that Snake would kill me if I gave him the chance. Aside from regret at the loss of a leader for Queens, I felt nothing. I had known from the beginning what I was getting myself into.

"Brooklyn!" For a split second I froze, forgetting everything around me. I didn't turn to Jack or to Spot, at this point I don't think I could have turned back to Snake. I felt my brain shift as I made my way into the center of the circle. I moved into a mode that blocked out everyone but my opponent, Snake. I heard his footsteps, his breathing, smelled him even. Everything but the fight faded into the background. I held out my hand and he pulled me to him.

"You're mine." He whispered. I didn't let it register, but drew my knife. I held it ready, waiting for the creak of the floorboards that would signal his attack. It came. He lunged and I spun in the opposite direction, swinging my knife around me. He was breathing more heavily than he normally would have if he hadn't had three opponents before me, and I took advantage of knowing his position with a quick attack of my own. He circled out of my range. We continued like that; each attacking and dodging in turn. I lost track of the time. His breathing was becoming ragged, but my own was heavy as well.

"How long do you think you can last like this, Rawnie?" Snake hissed, "Sooner or later your ears will fail you, and you won't be able to see me coming." I stayed silent, focused, "I don't want to hurt you, you know. I would hate to spoil my prize. I do wonder, though, how Spot will react. His arm was no accident as I'm sure you figured out by now," funnily enough, it hadn't even crossed my mind, "I was goin to kill you, but now I've decided that keeping you would hurt him so much more." I found myself wondering how we must look to the circle of newsies around us. Could they hear him, understand what he was saying? "Or perhaps I'm wrong, and Spot doesn't really care about you any more than Frankie does, well, did. He is dead isn't he? Otherwise you wouldn't be here, would you Rawnie? You would still be with him, a burden he felt honor bound to protect. You should thank me Rawnie. If it wasn't for me he never would have come back to you."

Against everything I ever learned, I lashed out at him. In the back of my mind it registered that I was doing exactly what he probably wanted me to; the front of my brain didn't care. I listened to the front of my brain, striking faster that I ever had before. I hardly even pulled back before striking again, swinging my leg out in front of me as I did so. I caught his feet while he dodged my knife and swept him to the ground. Before he could have time to move I put a foot on the wrist of the hand holding his knife and knelt on his chest, pressing my knife against his neck.

"Yield." I whispered. All I could hear was Snake's shallow breathing "Yield!" I screamed it. His left hand jerked. My knife was knocked out of my hand and I was suddenly aware of a burning pain in my right thigh. Second knife. Somehow I had time to realize the irony. This was exactly how Frankie died. Frankie… his knife! Almost before I remembered it, it was in my hand. Snake was standing up, I stood unsteadily and swung wildly. I connected. I fell, and it dawned on me that the pain in my thigh was a wound. Snake had stabbed me, and worse, it was bleeding. It was bleeding a lot.

The last thing I heard before passing out was Spot doing a very un-Spot like thing. "Rawnie, stay wit me goil, youse can't leave me. Ise won' let youse. Rawnie!" He was pleading.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red's POV

When I woke up, Spot was the first thing I heard, "Took youse long enough." I tried to sit up but tilted, dizzy. Spot put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down, "Not quite yet, Rawnie."  
"Why do you call me that?"

"What, no 'What happened' or 'Where are we'?" He laughed, but it was strained.

"Well, that too." I smiled sheepishly.

"Ise call youse Rawnie cause it's who youse are. Youse are Red too, bu' Rawnie's all mine. If youse don' like it Ise'll stop."

"No, from you I like it, but now tell me what happened. I remember I hit Snake, but I fainted." I was on a bed, not mine though. It was smaller, a bunk in the Lodging House. I pulled Spot closer to me and he put an arm over my stomach.

"Youse got 'im, all righ'." He said, breath tickling my neck, "He thought he won, an' he wasn' payen' attention. Youse killed 'im." I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. I discovered that I finaly understood Frankie's dislike of fighting. Even after it blinded me, I went back to it. Apparently it took death for me to get a sour taste in my mouth. Funny thing was, I kneww that I would still fight.

"Youse not 'appy." There was a question at the end of his sentence.

"I've never killed someone before." I whispered, "I've hurt people. I've hurt people really bad sometimes, but I've never killed anyone."

"Ise sorry." Spot played with my hair, "He hoit youse too though."

"My leg." I tried moving it. It was stiff, but the pain was managable. "Who stitched me up?" I asked him.

"Race."

"Race? As in Racetrack Higgins?" I couldn't believe it.

"He said he saw a jockey at da track git stitched up once, an' dat was more experience dan anyone else had." I ran a hand over the stitches gingerly.

"He actually did pretty well. Steady hands I guess."

"Dats what 'e get fer playen' poker so much." I laughed.

"So everything's just going to dissapear then?" I asked. Spot sat up next to me.

"Wha' da youse mean?"

"I'm going to go back to cooking and cleaning and doctoring and teaching if I'm asked to do it. You're going to go back to being King of Brooklyn now that your shoulder's nearly healed. I don't need anyone feeling like they need to take care of me. Least of all you."

"Wai', when did dis become abou' takin' care a youse? Ise fully aware dat youse'd be jus' fine if youse 'ad neva come ta Brooklyn."

"Ise just thought," he cut me off.

"Dat youse was an obligation or sometin." he said, "Rawnie, youse shoul' know by now dat Ise not Mouth. Ise not Snake, or Jack, or Rev, or anybody bu' Spot Conlon."

"I do know that." I reached out and found his hand, "Just like you should know what you're getting yourself into with me, Spot Conlon."

"Tell me." I could practically feel his smirk.

"Well," I sat myself up, "I'm stubborn."

"Same heah."

"I have a temper."

"No worse dan me own."

"I will allways find some way to be a fighter."

"Youse wouldn' look da same widout a knife in youse 'and."

"I've got alot of enemies."

"An' alot a friends too." I stayed quiet, so Spot kept going, "Youse not afraid ta yell at me."

"Somebody has to."

"Youse'll do anytin' fer youse newsies, an' youse friends."

"No more than you."

"Youse broken." he touched my cheek softly.

"I'm mending." I whispered. He layed down next to me, and I pretended we were out at the docks. "You relize that there are some things that are never going to heal." Spot rolled to his stomach, nearly on top of me.

"Youse can see betta den anybodies Ise know." The door opened and more than a dozen people streamed in. Spot stayed where he was.

"Ise thought youse was gonna let 'er sleep some more."

"Rev!" I thought we were in Manhattan.

"She woke up on 'er own." Spot said.

"So wadaya say, Red, youse ready ta come home?" Specs!

"Hey, hey, hey; she's gonna 'ave ta recover. Ise tink it'll be a week, any wagers?" Racetrack.

"Ise'll get in on dat. Spot'll 'ave 'er home in two days." Blackjack.

"Spot, Ise got what youse asked." Twitch, which could only mean...

"Spot, what did you have him steal?"

"NOthin'!" He pressed a bundle of cloth and lace into my hands that I recognized immediatly.

"My dress!" I beamed.

"Ise told 'im youse might want sometin' special ta come home in." Bones.

"So you were the one who brought my bag that first night!"

"No, dat was me." Tap spoke up.

"Whad 'e do?" Spot asked. Tap and I laughed.

"Youse know, Spot, if youse are gonna stay heah wid Red, Ise gonna 'ave ta charge ya jus' like everyone else." Jack. Everyone else laughed at that, including Spot. Someone tugged on my arm.

"Red?" Pint, "Are youse sure dat youse an' Spot ain't in love?"

"Well, Pint," I started. That was all the further I got before Spot pulled me into a kiss. I closed my eyes. Who ever thought a gypsie girl could find a home?


End file.
